The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1887-07-20
"BETSY CAMPS WEDDIN.'
BY NJ. j. ROY.


''Ole man, shet up, yer must be crazy"
''No. I'm not, its nigh onto thirty yeers
since / shook my foot, but its got ter trip
it ter night, even eff it does make my jinls
crack"
"What We mean, Jonathan?"
81 mean that thars goln' to be a shake
down at Pete Stumps.' And the old man
waved his hat over his head while he
waltzed about the kitchen. Aunt Tilda
Knucklebone sat with a pan of apples on
her lap, gazing at her husband in astonish-
ment, while the teapot boiled and Missed
on the stove.
''rm goin' ter be thar an shake my
foot. the fust time in thirty yeers, added
Uncle Jonathan, continuing to waltz
about the kitchen.
jonathan Knucklebone, hev We lost
yer senses?"
''No."
''Set down then an tell me what yer
mean"
Uncle Johnathan was soon out of breath,
and gladly enough threw himself into
kitchen chair.
''Well, Tilda-"
"Well, Jonathan, what dyer mean"
"Thar's goin' ter be a shake down at
Pete Stumps, all on account o some one
comm back from Californy, an yer can't
guess who it is?"
"Hamp Flatmarsh.
"Who's he?"
"What! don't yer remember Hamp, the
forty miner, who went away so long ago."
"'Pears to me like do remember him
little, said Aunt Tilda, resumng the pairing
of her apples.
90 course We remember Hamp. Why,
he war leetle boy when we war sparkin'."
"Yes, remember him now"
Wo1 10 fha holr lou fffr
its given in honor o him."
But We furgit, Jonathan; we both be-
long to the church now"
"Oh, don't keer if we do. The Bible
says thars time to dance, an that times
when Hamp Flatmarsh comes home.
Jonathan, / don't believe we ought to
60, said Aunt Tilda, yet evincing m her
tone just the least inclination to yield.
Eyer don't? Well, do. Ramps come
home artcr bein' gone nigh onto twenty
yeerS, an we'll go; course we will, ole
woman, meetin or no meetln; so, fix up,
put on yer best bib an tucker. Why,
knowed Hamp ever since he war knee high.
He's sot on my lap many time"
"Who all's goin' to be thar?"
ooh, everybody. Thar's the Moores,
the Perkinses, the Williamses, the Sny-
ders, Langs, Browns, Smiths, Pinkertons,
Aliens, Noddingtons, Applegates, Pender-
Eckertons, and Betsy Camp the school
marm."
"Is Betsy Camp goin?"
yes"
"Sartin' sure"
Dead sartin Little Alph Lowe over
heard Ben Hamilton tell Nick Alread that
Sam Snyder he'd heerd her say she was
goin', so thar can't be any doubt av it"
"Why Jonathan, declar ye've put IN
oil in a futter."
90 course; git ready, we're goin'."
"Will our children be thar"
90 course, Tom, Sally, Dave, and Ned
oil axed-"
"Well, Jonathan, we'd look like two old
fools n dancin afore our grown up chill
.dren."
1--WE needn't dance eff we don't want to.
Yer see thar's gon' ter be big supper like
O barbecue. Pete's axed the whole conn
try round, so they kin oil git ter see Hamp
at onct."
"Are We sure Betsy's goin'?"
Course she is.
Didn't she use ter know Hamp?'
Guess she did, ole woman. She was
purity leetle gal O sixteen when he went
away in forty nine"
"Pore Betsy. She's a good gall" said
Aunt Tilda, peeling apples vigorously, as
If she was in a hurry 10 get dinner ready.
our skule nigh on ter twelve years now, an
eff thars a lady in all Stun Circle neighbor-
hood it's Betsy Camp. Guess she's au-
thority on everything.
Say, Jonathan, don't it seem kinder
strange ter you that Betsy never got mar
ried?"
eyes, leetle."
can she's had so many good chances,
too. Thar was AL Bales was good ketch,
an she let him 60 by; then Phil Nichols
war next, but he TUX to drink, and no gal
as sensible as Betsy'd ever marry q man
wot drinks. Then sence she's been on the
old maid list, Dekin Smart, whose wife
died, 3 n most ded arter her."
"Wall, ole woman, / spose she don't
want ter marry. L guess that's all thar is
about it."
"Shes a good gal an could get anybody
she wanted
Aunt Tilda had now completed peeling
her apples, and proceeded to prepare the
dinner.
Evening came, and all the country was
in a hustle. 1t seemed as il the entire
neighborhood had suddenly concluded TO
go to Pete Stumps. The large, roomy
old-fashioned country house OF Pete
Stump, with its heavy oak doors and solid
oak floors and broad fire places, was
crowded TO its utmost capacity.
To use Uncle Jonathan's expression,
everybody was there.
"Come in, come in, how dy do? This is
Hamp Flatmarsh. / guess We know him
though; don't look as eff he'd changed
much, said Peter Stump who stood at the
front door. At his side was a tall, broad
shouldered man, with heavy mustache, and
face bronzed by long exposure to wind and
weather.
He was probably forty years of age, his
hair once dark was now streaked with gray,
and the heavy mustache was also growing
little frosty with time.
Many of the old people in the neighbor-
hood, who had known Hamp Flatmarsh as
quick, impulsive youth, now looked TO
see If there were any familiar features
about his face.
"Ycs, he is jist the same," they oil
declared, Except that dark scar in his
cheek where he got the Injun arrer," put
In old Sally Flint.
ooh, Hamp, I'm so glad ter gee We
back agin" said Uncle Jonathan Knuckle-